


I Want You, Baby

by ariapassionflower01



Series: Baby [2]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fights, M/M, Potential Non/Con, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1291264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariapassionflower01/pseuds/ariapassionflower01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is doing his best to forget how much he really wants Bill, but there are some lines that shouldn't be crossed</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want You, Baby

There was always something about coming home after a long trip. Even if they'd been living out of suitcases for the better part of the year, home still felt like _home_. 

Bill was nearly racing up the sidewalk, as fast as he could wearing wedge boots, and he was smiling broadly. Tom was inside and he couldn't wait to see him.

Bill burst up the front walk and through the door, calling out as he entered, “Tom? I'm back!”

He walked through the foyer and found the living room empty as well as the kitchen. Bill headed up the stairs at a jog, calling out for Tom again. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard the sounds. He slowed before coming to a complete halt at the top, a few feet away from Tom's door. All the joy seeped from his expression when heard a giggle, then a moan. A bedspring squeaked and then there was more low moaning.

Shock and then rage burned through Bill's chest in quick succession.

Bill knew about all the girls, of course. Everyone did. But it was something that Tom did outside the house. Once Tom stepped inside these walls, he was Bill's. Bill had long ago accepted that Tom would never get over the taboo of their relationship and that he would never make himself exclusive to Bill. Bill practically had to force him every time they had sex. Sometimes, it got tiring, but it was always worth it, and Bill never stopped hoping.

Standing here at the stairs, however, Bill was suddenly hit with a dose of cold, hard truth. In the next second, he flung himself into denial, then wrath. How dare Tom bring this girl into  _their_ house and fuck her in  _their_ bed! 

Bill sensed red at the edges of his vision and before he comprehended telling himself to do so, he was marching towards the door, shaking from head to toe. He knew what sight he was going to be met with but he yanked the door open anyways.

The squirming lump in the bedsheets thrashed for a moment before Tom's head darted out from beneath the covers. His eyes went wide and a wash of color bled across his cheeks. Even from this distance, Bill could see his throat bob with a hard swallow. They stared at each other across the room, silent, but speaking more than words, for several seconds before a blonde head poked out next to Tom's. Bill could hardly look at her and he found himself blinking back hot raging tears.

There were several more tense silent beats before the girl said, almost quietly, “What the fuck?”

“I'll tell you what.” Bill's voice broke the silence, louder and harsher than he had intended. He turned his eyes to the blonde, certain that his anger could've melted her into nothing. “Get out of my brother's bed. Get out of my house.”

“Bill!” Tom burst into the conversation.

“Now!” Bill shouted, thrusting a finger towards the doorway.

“Oh my God.” The girl was muttering with indignation.

“Bill, what...” Tom was sputtering trying to find his words. He scrambled out of the sheets, snatching up a pair of sweatpants from the floor. Meanwhile the girl struggled to find her clothes, vainly attempting to hold the sheets over herself. Bill didn't even blink when a full, taut breast slipped into view.

Tom marched across the room and grabbed Bill's arm. He hauled him backwards and into the hallway. Bill went with him but wrenched his arm away when they were out of view.

“What  _the hell_ do you think you're doing?” Tom demanded. 

“What do  _you_ think you're doing?” Bill spat back. “Bringing a girl into our house.  _Our_ house, Tom!” 

“ _My_ house, Bill. I live here, I can make my own decisions.” Tom returned, getting in Bill's face, his eyes spitting fire. 

“I don't care who you think you are, Tom Kaulitz.” Bill returned with vehemence. “But this house is off limits to your women. All of them.”

“You don't make the fucking rules.” Tom returned, stabbing a finger at Bill's chest. “I make my own rules, and they say I can do whatever the fuck I want!”

“That is our bed, Tom!” Bill shouted, pointing his own finger back towards the bedroom. “I don't care how much you want to fucking deny it! Inside this house, you are  _mine_ !” He could feel the blood rushing hotly underneath the surface of his skin, throbbing in his cheeks and neck. He felt overheated by his rage and he was quivering uncontrollably. 

Tom drew back as if slapped. His lips moved silently for a moment before said, “I'm not yours, Bill, and I never will be. That's what you're going to have to accept someday.” He began to turn away, but Bill grabbed his arm, harshly.

“Don't you  _fucking_ walk away from me.” He yanked Tom around, his fingernails digging into Tom's arm. 

“Get off me.” Tom pulled his arm free of Bill's grip and stepped in close, his dark eyes narrowed, “Lay a hand on me again, and I swear to God, I will put you on your ass.” He spun around and marched back towards the bedroom, his shoulders drawn, his usual, easy swagger tense. Bill stared after him, unable to speak for the first time since entering the bedroom. He wasn't afraid of Tom's threats, although he damn well knew he would follow through. He was struck dumb by the sudden feeling that he was losing his grip on the most important thing in his life.

A moment later the girl was leaving, pulling together her rumpled clothes. She was apologizing, saying she was sorry for interrupting. Tom grunted something in return that Bill couldn't make out and then she was walking past him, casting him a strange look, one that he had never experienced before.

What was it? Aversion? When she flipped her hair over her shoulder and strode past him, hips swinging, Bill felt his lip curl. This was what Tom had traded him for while he was gone?

Bill marched into the bedroom. He wasn't ready to give this up yet.

“I leave for a  _week_ and this is what you do?” He asked. His voice was more calm now and he folded his arms. 

“This is what I always do, Bill.” Tom said, casting him a withering glare. “You know that. You tell me I smell like a whore or a hooker all the time.”

Bill clenched his jaw and looked away. “You smell like it now.” He said in a low tone. “And you're gonna drop your pants right this fucking instant and I'm going to fuck this 'I can do whatever I want in this house' notion right out of your skull.”

Tom tensed and Bill could feel his heart thudding against his chest. He wasn't sure if Tom was going to obey him but Bill had to goddamn  _try_ . 

There was a good fifteen seconds of silence before Tom's voice came out, huskily quiet, but firm, “I told you.. you're not laying a hand on me again.”

Bill hardened his gaze and turned his eyes back to Tom. “Your pants. Now.”

Tom resisted once more, but Bill could see the hesitancy in his eyes. He wanted to obey, but his pride wasn't letting him. Or was that fear that Bill could sense in those honey brown depths?

“Or what?” Tom asked after a beat.

Bill narrowed his eyes. “Or I'll do it myself.”

Bill could feel the tension crackling between, feel their heats pounding wildly in rhythm. Something had to break.

“Get on the fucking bed!” Bill snapped out at last, jabbing a finger towards the rumpled sheets. Tom flinched and his jaw clenched, but Bill knew. Now that they were alone, Tom lost his resolve. He didn't have someone else there watching him or expecting him to do the manly thing.

Tom moved slowly. He was blinking quickly as he fumbled with the sweatpants. He tugged them down slowly and stepped out of them before going to the bed. Bill could see him gripping the sheets hard as he lowered himself to his stomach.

Bill tore off his jacket and tossed it aside before removing his shirt. His own hands were shaking now as he got his pants open and stripped out of them, along with his boxers. He went to the bedside table and yanked the drawer open where he knew the lube would be. He walked back to the bed and climbed on between Tom's thighs.

He didn't say anything now. There was no need. Everything had already been said, and now their minds were running parallel courses and Bill could practically read Tom's mind.

He got the lube on his fingers and pressed them roughly between Tom's buttocks. The entrance was taut and clinched tight with tension, but Bill got first one finger in then two. Tom was gagging his cries into the sheets, but Bill could hear them drifting through, muffled but no less potent. His hips arched up as Bill stabbed his fingers in deep. Tom's body quivered and spasmed around the digits but Bill didn't really care whether he was getting sufficient prep.

Tom had crossed the line bringing that girl into the house and now Bill was going to cross his own line. Before, when they had sex, they never really spoke about it afterwards. In their everyday lives, they tried to act like normal brothers. It had been mostly Tom, because he never wanted to accept Bill's advances, but now it was about to change. Bill was tired of having only a part of Tom, a dubious part of him no less, and he was more than pissed off that Tom had the gull to desecrate their home with a girl, who was probably a slut, a whore of the worst kind.

Tom writhed under him as Bill twisted his fingers in deep, pushing back unrelenting muscle. He was trying to get away but Bill wouldn't let him. He snared his fingers in Tom's braids and held him down, pulling a moan from Tom's lips as his hair was pulled.

Bill pushed a third finger into the straining entrance and gave a few pumps before he pulled his hand back. He grabbed up the lube again and slicked up his cock. It was throbbing now with angry, hot blood, and insane mixture of rage and passion.

“Bill, wait...” Tom was panting, sounding terrified, but Bill wouldn't acknowledge it. He grabbed Tom's hips, lining his cock up with Tom's tight hole. “Please, I'm not ready.” Tom was begging, choking over his own saliva and hysteria.

Bill pressed his cockhead up against Tom's entrance and gave a firm push, forcing the thick, throbbing tip inside. Tom cried out, his voice raspy and high. He clawed at the sheets, his body arching and twisting, trying to escape. Bill held tight to him and shoved his hips forward. Tom cried out again as Bill shifted deeper inside him. His body went almost unbearably tight around Bill's cock, but he gritted his teeth and delivered another thrust.

Tom lowered his face to the sheets and held on tightly. He dissolved into pained reticence as Bill began a steady rhythm. His body quivered and clenched around Bill's cock, trying to reject the foreign object entering him. Bill wouldn't let him; he kept shoving into him, forcing his enlarged cock into the tight space.

“Fuck.. shit...” Tom was panting, his voice quavering. His shoulders were drawn tight and he was holding himself still on the bed, no longer trying to escape.

Bill squeezed his eyes shut and pounded into him faster. He could feel the pleasure hovering inside him, but it wasn't crashing over him as it usually did. All the anger and tension was blocking him, he knew, and for some reason he couldn't channel it. Typically, he could get him emotions to work for him, whatever they were, whatever the situation, but right now, he was struggling, trying to get a reign on himself.

Bill pulled back and paused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself before he pressed forward again. He could hear Tom grunt and groan with each thrust and he tried to focus on the feeling of Tom's body squeezing and stroking him with velvety hotness. He leaned over Tom, bracing his hands on either side of his body and using the leverage to rock his hips against Tom's ass. The pleasure came slowly, much more slowly than Bill was used to. He resisted the urge to growl in frustration and give up. He couldn't do that. Not now.

At last, he felt a trickle of pleasure in his groin and reached out for, shifting his hips into quick circles and rolls. He pursued the pleasure to its end until he felt himself release. It wasn't the most gratifying or amazing orgasm he had ever had and when he pulled out, Tom simply slumped to the bed without a word. Bill wasn't even sure he had cum.

Standing from the bed, Bill felt himself quivering. This time, it wasn't out of anger – that was all used up and thrown to the wind. He wasn't sure he had done the right thing and he felt a bit fearful. 

He grabbed his clothes and hurried towards the door, suddenly suffocating inside the small space with Tom. He went to his bedroom and headed straight towards his bathroom. He went inside the shower and turned on the hot water. He washed away the evidence of their sex, but he could wash away the residue of the anger that still lingered on.

 

~

 

His homecoming was ruined and Bill didn't know who to blame more – Tom or himself.

When he emerged from the shower, Tom's door was shut and Bill didn't even try to turn the handle. He was sure it was locked and he didn't bother knocking either. He didn't think it was wise to speak to Tom at the moment anyhow. It was probably best to let him cool down and hopefully see that he had been wrong – very wrong. Bill tried not to think about what conclusion Tom would come to about Bill's reaction.

For now, they kept themselves separate, locked away in their own personal spaces.

After not seeing Tom for a week, Bill already felt horribly lonely. Although the physical distance between them no longer existed, Bill had never felt farther away from his twin, and he found it almost unbearable. He threw himself into work instead.

He had left a week ago for Paris to meet with the famed fashion designer, Wolfgang Joop. Of course, a spectacle was made of it, and cameras had followed them everywhere. Bill hadn't been all that excited about “documentary” being made of their time together. Everyone agreed, however, that it would be very advantageous to both of their careers. Now, Bill had to deal with approving the editing and compilation of the footage.

He sat at his computer and emailed with producers and Wolfgang himself, all the while trying to keep his mind off his and Tom's situation.

It was nighttime by the time Bill ventured out of his room, finding himself hungry. He walked quietly down to the kitchen. The house was mostly dark and Bill expected Tom to still be in his room. He was startled when he found Tom standing at the sink. The only illumination was a small light above Tom's head and it was mostly dim.

Bill came to stand in the doorway, unsure of what to say. At last, when Tom didn't say anything, Bill went to the refrigerator and looked for something to eat. The tension in the room swamped his senses and he found himself staring sightlessly at the shelves.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and he slammed the door shut. “Ok, we have to talk.” He stated in a quick rush of words.

Tom's shoulders tensed and he turned slowly. His eyes were dark, his brows drawn, and Bill felt a pang of remorse go through his chest when he noticed his red-rimmed eyes.

“That was really mature of you, Bill.” Tom said, his strong arms crossing over his chest. “Coming into my room while I have a girl and throwing your authority around like it means something.”

Bill flinched. He really didn't want to fight again, but they had to speak about this and Tom sounded like he just wanted to do it the hard way again.

“We agreed a long time ago that this house is off limits.” Bill said, trying to keep his voice down. “The house and the tour bus. That's all I've ever asked.”  
“Yes, you, Bill. That's what _you_ want.” Tom snapped, his brows drawing tighter. “Normal guys bring their dates home-”  
“No, oh no!” Bill charged in, stabbing a finger at Tom's chest. “You do not get to claim that role, Tom. All I have ever heard from you is fucking one night stands and that's for cheap motel rooms, not our house!”

“Do you really think that low of me?” Tom stepped forward, red bursting up his neck and face.

“Have you ever given me a reason to think otherwise?” Bill demanded, throwing out his hands. “Look, I am fucking sorry I overreacted, but you were never in the right. _Never_.”  
“Oh, now you're fucking sorry.” Tom growled, turning away in disgust.

“Would you rather I not be?”  
“Its doesn't make a fucking difference.” Tom returned, throwing a heated glare back in Bill's direction. “Its over and done now. You've done the damage and that's it.”

“Oh, _I've_ done the damage?” Bill snarled. “You are the one who brought that whore into our house. Into our bed!”

“I never wanted it to be our bed!” Tom threw back, his voice rising.

Bill drew back, shocked. He struggled with his words for several seconds, unable to speak. He knew Tom was slow to accept it whenever they had sex, but Bill knew it was never unwilling, or maybe he had just let himself believe that.

Tom's voice was soft the next time he spoke. “Didn't you ever think that when I said 'no' I meant it?” He brushed past Bill before he got an answer. Bill felt tears obscuring his vision, but it didn't block him from seeing the limp in Tom's step, or the pain in Tom's own eyes as he passed. In fact, he saw quite more clearly with the tears in his eyes.

 

~

 

Bill slept fitfully that night, and finally awoke at nearly four in the morning, fully alert. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but his mind was turning in circles and his sheets and clothes were damp with sweat, twisted about from his tossing and turning.

Finally, after nearly an hour of trying to return to sleep, Bill sat up and tossed his shirt off, leaving him in his boxers. He stumbled across the room and trudged downstairs to find a glass of cold water. He was surprised when he saw the flash of light of the TV from the livingroom. He didn't remember leaving it on and that meant that he was either losing his mind or Tom was awake as well. Bill briefly considered the notion that he really was losing his mind before he crept slowly to the door. He peeked inside and saw Tom lying back on the couch with Scotty in his arms. He was watching the muted TV with half-closed eyes and he looked peaceful. Bill swallowed back the knot in his throat, watching his brother's calm, relaxed expression while he didn't know Bill was only a few feet away.

The thought that he should apologize, really apologize hit Bill suddenly in the chest and he balked. He wasn't sorry for all the times that he had taken Tom to their bedroom, but he most certainly knew he _should_ be sorry for how it had made Tom feel. _What happens if I apologize?_ Bill wondered, _I'll never be able to have him again._ The thought pained him so much that he almost ran back up the stairs at that very moment. He loved Tom more than anyone, _desired_ him more than anyone. He had never been able to find a suitable person to date because he had already had the perfect mate. Tom completed him so fully, knew him so intricately that Bill could not imagine giving his heart to someone else. And now Tom had taken that notion and crushed it to the ground.

Bill felt tears in his eyes again and he stifled a soft cry in his hand.

“Bill?”

Bill started when Tom sat up, alerted by Bill's hushed crying in the hallway. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand before he stepped into the doorway, showing himself.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked, rubbing his own eyes. His lids were heavy and Bill wondered if Tom had caught any sleep at all.

“I couldn't sleep.” Bill said quietly.

“Me neither.” Tom said.

An awkward silence settled over the room and Bill shifted in the doorway, casting glances at Tom from under dark lashes.

“I'm sorry.” Bill whispered at last, looking down and picking at an acrylic.

Tom didn't say anything. He hardly acknowledged that Bill had spoken except for a quick blink of his eyes.

There were a few more beats of silence before Tom said in a low voice, “Sorry for what? Pushing me into sex with you? Humiliating me in front of my date? Raping me in my own bedroom? Should I go on?”

Bill shook his head quickly, tears blinding his vision. Tom was being harsh, but didn't he deserve it? It was true, everything he said.

Tom gave a heavy sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Just go back to bed, Bill.”

Bill lifted wide, wet eyes to him, his lips parted in shock. They always forgave each other. He couldn't remember a time when either one of them had refused an apology, no matter what it was that the other had done.

“I said I was sorry.” He cried, throwing out his hands. “What else do you want me to do?”  
Tom eyes flashed hurt for a second before an unreadable expression crossed his features. Bill drew back, unsure of what Tom was thinking behind his dark, almond eyes.

Tom jumped off the couch suddenly, sending Scotty bolting with a yelp. Tom crossed the room in quick strides and slammed Bill up against the wall, one hand squeezing his shoulder, the other sinking into his hair. “I want you to stop being so goddamn irresistible.” Tom growled, giving him a hard shake.

Bill swallowed hard, so shocked that he couldn't say anything. Tom was sending him mixed signals and he was so confused. He wondered if Tom even understood his own thought patterns at the moment.

“God,” Tom whispered in a low tone, lowering his head. His fingers were squeezing Bill's hair so tightly that it hurt and grip on his shoulder was so strong that his short nails bit into Bill's flesh.

“Why do you do this to me?” He groaned quietly.

Bill stayed frozen against the wall. His lips moved silently for a moment before he whispered, “Do what?”  
Tom lifted his head, his eyes flashing. “I don't want you, okay?” He voice was strong, but Bill could sense the undercurrent of his tone. He was lying, and Bill had never been more sure about something. Had Tom been acting like this the whole time because he didn't want to admit that he really _did_ want Bill?

Tom shoved away from him and he paced away, rubbing his hands over his face. “Go back to bed.” He repeated, his voice thin this time, almost quavering.

Bill obeyed without even thinking. He was overwhelmed by the encounter, shocked by what it had told him. Tom had been keeping himself so closed off from Bill that Bill hadn't been able to read him, but now in a moment of weakness, came the moment of clarity.

Bill went back to bed, but he didn't sleep. Instead, his mind turned in circles, processing what he had just learned, and forming a plan. He had to know for sure that Tom really wanted this and he had to make Tom see that he did.

It was nearly six o clock in the morning by the time that Bill came to the conclusion that he was going to have to completely change his game.

When he had left this bed, he had been ready to give up, ready to let go of the most important thing in his life. Now, he was more determined than ever. Bill had a plan, and Tom's only offensive was his lingering resistance, and if Bill was any kind of judge, that resistance was so minimal that it barely existed.

Tom was going to crumble beneath the weight of his own desires. He just didn't know it yet.

 

 


End file.
